


Don't Say You Won't

by VivatRex



Series: Wishful Sinful [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deepthroating, Drowley Smut, Episode: s09e17 Mother's Little Helper, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivatRex/pseuds/VivatRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Mark takes its toll on Dean, he finds himself drawn back to Crowley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say You Won't

**Author's Note:**

> I ship Mooseley for the feels. I ship Crowstiel 'cause they're soul mates. I ship Drowley because, for whatever reason, the smut is just so damn addictive.
> 
> I need help. Here's more badly written porn for your perusal.

He swore to himself that it would never happen again - that it was a one time thing. That between the clusterfuck he was going through in his own life and Crowley's pitiful state of mind at the time, his good judgment broke and he let himself get buried balls-deep in the King of Hell. The King of Hell who was wearing a male vessel.

He was straight. It was a mistake. He was not about to make a habit of getting off with demons. Crowley may have been back on human blood, but at least this time around, he seemed to have his shit together. Dean had been hoping that the detox would take, but apparently it wasn't meant to be. Maybe after all this Abaddon shit was done, he would try to convince the demon to go off the stuff again.

And there was Dean - he was dealing with the effects of the Mark. Not even close to well, but dealing none the less. Dealing enough to keep his cock out of Crowley.

Right?

Perhaps not, considering where he was at the present moment. Crowley's lips against his neck, sucking at the skin there but not breaking it with his teeth, and the demon's palm rubbing up into his crotch. They were crammed back into a corner of the bar, out of sight and out of mind for the time being. His mind was telling him to stop, to shove Crowley away and go the hell home, but really, what was he going home to?

An empty, silent bunker. Sam was out on a hunt, and he was alone. Alone and _hungry_. And he knew exactly what he was hungry for - he was hungry for more blood on his hands. To feel the perfect fit of his hand around the First Blade again. To feel that overwhelming calm, the rightness of it. He needed it like oxygen, but he knew he couldn't pick that thing up again.

No. Not until Abaddon.

He needed something to stay the hunger, even if it was only for a little bit, and he found his mouth watering at the idea of touching Crowley again - of having the demon riding his dick again, having his hand on the King's cock, jerking him off. Lips against lips, chests pressed together.

God, did he need it. And Crowley must've seen it in his eyes when he showed up to lecture him about the Blade. Must've fucking _smelled it_ on him.

He thought Crowley was going to leave. Instead, he'd just smirked and dragged Dean back to this out of the way corner and pushed him hard against the wall. And now this.

"Crowley," he huffed out. "This isn't - it's not gonna happen again. It's not."

A harder push of Crowley's hand against his already tented jeans. Crowley's teeth teased over the soft skin of his neck, and the demon chuckled. "I think Dean Junior disagrees."

"I mean it."

A sharp nip to his neck, and then Crowley pulled back to look at him. He used his free hand to claw possessively at Dean's hair. He leaned in close, almost close enough for their lips to meet but not enough. Damn it, not nearly enough.

"Then stop me," he growled out, and the demon's dark green eyes looked black in the dim light of the bar. "I can practically taste all that bloodlust in you, Dean - I do love that alpha wolf side of you - and unless you're going to stick me with something other than that pretty cock of yours, then I suggest you shut up, lean back, and enjoy the ride. Let Daddy take care of you."

Crowley unzipped Dean's jeans, slipped a finger in, tracing over the bulge in his boxers. "F-fuck - you got some kind of kink for that, or something? Should've known."

"Oh darling, there's all sorts of things you don't know about me." Crowley laughed low in his throat, and then pressed his lips to Dean's jaw. "Wouldn't you say that's what makes me so _interesting_?"

Crowley pulled Dean's cock out of his jeans, wrapping his hand around it. Dean made a move to gasp, but Crowley's mouth sealed over his, kissing him roughly as he ran his hand along the length of his shaft. Dean submitted as Crowley's tongue slid past his lips and into his mouth. Dean tasted blood and scotch on the demon's tongue.

_What the fuck is wrong with me? I've got the Mark of Cain on my arm and a demon jerking me off in some sleazy bar._

Then another, more desperate thought:

_What the hell is happening to me?_

His mind went blank and the worry drained when Crowley dropped to his knees in front of him. Oh God. Not this again. "Crowley-" _I need to be inside of you. Please._

"Ah-ah. I'm all for PDA, Squirrel, but fucking in public? Even I have standards." He drew his tongue along Dean's length, and the warmth and wetness of it caused Dean's entire body to shudder. His hands went into Crowley's hair, fingers digging into the King's scalp.

"S-so what, you're just going to suck me off right here?"

"Your powers of deduction are remarkable. Do try to stay quiet, unless you'd like to give the rest of the patrons a show." Suddenly, Crowley's mouth was around his cock, and the demon sucked hard. Dean had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from yelling at the bolt of ecstasy that shot from his dick and up his spine.

Dean whimpered as Crowley worked him, his tongue as talented as he remembered - hell, even better this time, as the demon wasn't high and drunk out of his damn mind. His knees were shaking as the demon swallowed him down further, and next thing he knew, he was in Crowley's throat, and the King seemed perfectly content with it.

Right, demon's didn't need oxygen.

_Awesome._

Dean thrusted into the demon's throat, using his hand to hold Crowley against him. Crowley sucked determinedly, and Dean felt himself getting close - quickly, too, no one had ever brought him to the edge this fast - and he thrusted deep into the demon's throat a few times, biting down on the inside of his hand until he drew blood. He couldn't scream. He could. Not. Scream.

He tightened his grip on Crowley's head, and with a barely smothered groan, he came hot and hard into the demon's mouth. The demon drew back enough so that he could effectively swallow it, and when it stopped flowing, he sucked him dry, milking him for every last drop. Finally, the demon drew back, his mouth damp with spit and cum. A swipe of that ungodly tongue of his, and his lips were clean again.

Crowley drew back up to his feet, and even though the King had dropped to his knees for Dean, he felt like he'd just been dominated. He felt dirty and a little bit used, just like last time, but he felt good. He felt...

He felt like someone gave a damn about him. And okay, maybe Crowley only gave a damn about his cock, but it was better than nothing.

"Eager tonight, aren't we?" Crowley asked, putting his hands on the wall on either side of Dean's head. The demon smirked at him. Dean was panting and flushed, and he could tell that the sight was amusing Crowley. "Now, love, what say we go find a more suitable location and have a repeat performance of our illicit little affair? One last hurrah before the wife comes home?"

Barely able to catch his breath, Dean muttered, "Sam's not my wife."

"Oh, but I'm _definitely_ your mistress." He leaned in and gave Dean a slow kiss, and Dean could taste himself on the demon's lips. When he withdrew, his mind was still a fuzzy, post-orgasm haze, and he couldn't find a single damn reason to go home alone tonight.

He had Satan's Mark on his arm, and he had to shove down the urge to kill everything in sight. If he was damned, he was going to enjoy it.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Dean asked, a cocky smile working its way onto his features. Crowley grinned in response, putting a hand around the back of Dean's neck and pulling him down into a searing kiss. He felt an unpleasant tug in his stomach as Crowley teleported them elsewhere, and suddenly, a familiar comforter was underneath him and he was on his back.

They were on his bed in the bunker. Home. And Crowley was on top of him, and kissing him like that, and oh - _maybe, just maybe, I can get used to this._

 

 


End file.
